(no subject)

[fuckvampires]

[He's dangling a black ring from a chain around his neck, spinning it between his fingers.]

Fuck, I still don't know which finger to wear it on.

Comments

[totheskye]

You ain't hurt any men, then?

[Silently, he asks the room for a large sofa, and lets himself sprawl down onto it when the place complies, resting his uncomfortably-heeled leather boots on the arm.]

I still got an issue with payin' for sex. Wish I didn't, sometimes; 'least then I'd see more tits.

[fuckvampires]

I hurt lots of men. They usually had it coming. The women never did.

[Why is he wearing... nevermind, his boyfriend wears make-up. He will never fit in with the gothic/hip crowd.]

It's a business. Sex work makes the world go 'round.

[totheskye]

S'pose that's a fair distinction.

[The knee-high horrors aren't the worst part: he's also wearing black denim too-short shorts and a neon pink shirt that is too shredded to really be a shirt. There may have been a party at his club when the room snatched him.]

I don't gotta problem with prostitution, y'know that. Prob'ly just me bein' an arrogant motherfucker.

[fuckvampires]

Replace that probably with 'definitely' and you got your answer. I gotta get going, but hey. Least you're not dead and shit.

[totheskye]

Fine, fine, definitely. Yeah, I gotta life an' a party to get back to soon anyway, what with the not bein' dead an' all.

[As a testament to how much Skye has changed, he drops his cigarette into a room-conjured ashtray to dart forward and kiss Harvestman on the cheek, grinning, before he returns to lounging and picks up the cancer stick.]

Take care, an' all that shit.

[fuckvampires]

[He's genuinely surprised by this - whatever drugs those dates of Skye's been slipping him must be great - but just smiles.]

Yeah, sure. Don't get vamp-eaten, all that.

[totheskye]

Right, you gotta permanent claim to my neck, got it.

[He sticks out his tongue, putting his feet up again and laying back.]

Tell that asshole I say hey.